Wet leaves on concrete. Fruit rotting in the streets. Brown palm leaves.
Leaf matter in corners and chinks, left there for the monsoon to wash
away. Detritus City, where nature inexorably takes back the territory,
and we just let it. This is the city of the twenties and thirties. Before
mechanized cleaning vehicles. And still this is the city of the third
world. The tropical city, palms, fruit, flowery perfume in the thick
sultry air, wet clouds in stacks all over the horizon, the sudden flight
of a colorful bird.